


In Twilight Hours

by sheiruki



Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: Discussion of Family, Gen, Noble scion fatebinder, Post-Canon, Spoilers, just a short melancholic conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiruki/pseuds/sheiruki
Summary: Tunon is called to an urgent meeting with his new sovereign.
Kudos: 14





	In Twilight Hours

**Author's Note:**

> While my fatebinder is of the noble scion background, his is much more positive than the canon version.

“Your Honor“

The door closed with a loud “thud”. Tunon let himself descend until his feet touched the floor. The makeshift office was dark; only some stray rays of light shone through the shutters, illuminating the marble hall. Alendron, his young Fatebinder, was sitting on the desk, cane in hand. He acknowledged the adjudicator with a small nod, but kept his eyes closed.

“Archon”

“My name, adjudicator. I may be your new sovereign, but senseless formalities will only make our collaboration complicated.”

“As you wish, Alendron. I assume the matter at hand is of a certain urgency considering the hour.”

Alendron pushed himself off the desk, the rings woven into his long red hair glimmered in the pale light. He let his hand glide along the edge of the desk, the cane in his other hand hovering over the ground before him, slowly swaying from left to right.

Tunon was still baffled by the irony of it all. Not only had his pupil successfully justified all his transgressions against Kyros’ law, no, he had also managed to slay Bleden Mark mere moments later. And so it came to pass that he, Tunon the adjudicator, Archon of Justice and counsel to Kyros the overlord, had deserted his former master after 400 years of service and placed all his hopes in the young man in front of him.

The cane touched his feet and the fledgeling archon stopped before him, turned his head to face the pale iron mask and finally opened his eyes. Unseeing, but piercing, nevertheless.

“My family,” he said flatly.

“Your family,” Tunon repeated.

“Exactly. The ever-present noose around my neck which you were more than willing to tighten should I ever forsake the court.”

Alendron raised his cane and repeatedly tipped it against Tunon’s chest.

He lowered his voice to a threatening snarl:

“Where are they? How are they? And, more importantly, is there a way to evacuate them from the Northern Empire?”

“Arch- Alendron. I wish I could assure you of their well-being, but breaking with Her has severely limited my influence over the North. The few fatebinders, spies and servants that followed me here are now sworn into your service; those left in the Northern Empire will likely continue serving Kyros – some out of loyalty, some out of fear. Regardless, acquiring information on your family’s whereabouts may prove difficult.”

The answer did not seem to satisfy his former student.

“However, it is unlikely that She would kill them without using them as bait,” he paused before adding “For what little solace it is worth.”

Alendron turned around and walked up to the nearby window. He let his hands glide over the shutters until nimble fingers found the little latch. After some fidgeting, the shutters opened, giving way to the cool breeze of a late summer evening. The fading sounds of a sleepy Bastard City echoed from down below. Tunon watched as Alendron stood there, red strands, turned orange by the city lights, dancing around his slender frame. The room had grown eerily silent.

“When I was sworn into your service my family didn’t just lose the heir to their fortune; they also lost their firstborn son. The son whose mother had risked her life by bringing him into this world; the son whose father had sat by his bedside for days praying that the poison wouldn’t take his only child away; the son who begged his mother to let him touch her growing belly for he was so excited to have a little sibling – a sibling he never got to meet.” He sighed. “Now, I don’t think I could recognize any of them if they were to pass me by. All because my family committed the same damn crookery as every other noble family in the Northern Empire.” He slammed his fists against the windowpane.

“Do you remember your family, Your Honor? Your parents? Your siblings?”

Tunon stood silent, his white iron mask remained impassive but behind he was struggling to focus.

He remembered countless laws and regulations; proper proceedings for dealing with inheritance disputes, laws for naming children under Kyros and even an overview of all the noble lineages in the Northern Empire. Beyond that? Nothing but black mist. At the realization, an otherworldly cold spread through him.

Tunon snapped back to reality, glanced around the room and found Alendron still by the window, gazing out into a violet sky. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. The experience had left him feeling strangely exposed.

“Your Honor? Tunon?” Alendron turned around, worry written on his face. “You needn’t tell me. I was just hoping you could permit yourself some sympathy for my situation,” he explained in a much softer tone. “Do you think we could dispatch some of the Disfavoured?”

Tunon floated over to the window, joining his new master.

“You cannot see it, I know, but the view from up here is marvellous. During the day the streets are filled with people. Like insects they scatter across the city going about their daily lives, worrying if the rest of their city might fall into the sinkholes; if yet another army will storm the city gates; if they will have enough food to survive the next day. Since my judgement of the Bastard City I have let them know a modicum of peace and order. You will need every Disfavoured to protect this fraction of normality. They are your subjects, people who will soon face the next war they neither started nor wanted.”

Alendron had grown as still and expressionless as Tunon himself. After an eternity, he finally broke the silence. “So, you’re saying there’s nothing we can do?”

“Yes, almost nothing. I will send a group of court spies to the north. They shall locate your family and establish contact. I can promise no more. Is there anything else you need?”

“No.” Alendron’s voice was barely audible. “Good night, adjudicator.”

Just as Tunon was about to open the door, he stopped to look back at his young Fatebinder.

“Good night, Archon.”


End file.
